


bird without a song

by hedgehogtongues



Category: Glee
Genre: Car Accidents, Gen, Pre-Slash, Set during 2.13, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehogtongues/pseuds/hedgehogtongues
Summary: Kurt gets into a car accident.But it's not always that simple.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from nothing compares 2 u by sinead o'connor
> 
> if i missed any warnings please let me know (U_U)7
> 
> also i apologize for any medical inaccuracies im very lazy and didn't feel like fact checking ahaaa

Kurt would suppose, in the moment, it was something like woken up from a deep sleep, except then he begins to feel the dull ache between his eyes, the distinct feel of his hand being held, and the slowly growing murmurs of distant voices. He wonders what kind of sky dwarf he prayed to unconsciously for someone to be holding his hand so reverently - so tightly - while he slept, but as his eyes become adjusted to white LED lights, he begins to gather an idea of where he is.

“Mr. Hummel, do you know where you are?”

Kurt just blearily blinks his eyes at a figure in a white coat, unable to speak.

“You’re in Lima General Hospital after being found on the side of the road in a car accident, do you remember this?”

“Is it… right to be loading up this kinda info on him when he’s just waking up, doc?” This voice is low, a grumble even, and familiar, “Could scramble his brain or somethin’...”

“This is just standard practice.” 

There’s another squeeze at his hand, and as Kurt slowly turns to look at his hand, and the arm holding it, and realizing the arm belongs to his dad. 

_Oh._

“Dad?” Kurt groans, his head aching with every inch. 

“Hey, hey kiddo, don’t worry, I’m here.” His dad soothes the hair on Kurt’s left arm softly, and then he notices his other arm in a neon green cast. Oh _god_. What have they done to his arm?

The doctor seems to notice his horror, “You have a fractured radius and eye socket, we suspect it might have been caught against the steering wheel in your accident. Along with this, your nose is completely broken. You also had a mild concussion when you were admitted, but it seems to have faded. You’re very lucky that this is all the damage, Mr. Hummel.”

“You hear that kid? You’re gonna be alright.” Dad sounds like he has something close to tears in his voice, words failing him. 

“Mmm…” Kurt just replies tiredly.

“If you need anything, the call button is off to your side.” The doctor gives a cool, plastic smile, “I’ll see you both soon.” 

He walks out and leaves Kurt and Burt in silence. The hospital feels stifling around him, black chairs and a lumpy mattress. The blue sheets and bluer gown on his frame. He remembers last being here - crying over his comatose father and the growing feelings of being completely _alone._ It feels so long ago, so much has happened since then - Karofsky, the wedding, Dalton and the Warblers… Blaine. 

The steady drip of the IV and the tick of a black rimmed clock are muffled by the slow rush of blood in his ears. God, he _hates_ hospitals. 

“God, Kurt…” His dad starts, and his breath catches on the last syllable, “I was _so_ scared. I knew I should’ve taken time off to drive you home, the trip is so long and there’s so much to go wrong and - I don’t know. There’s a part of me that is just yellin’ at me that I’ve failed you as a father, because god, who lets their kid drive two hours on the freeway everyday? Especially in this weather… I coulda really lost you. God, I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Kurt can only slowly blink up into his dad’s wet eyes, and tighten his grip on his hand. He feels lost for words.

“Dad.. I…” His voice is quiet from disuse, “It’s okay. I’m alright.” 

His dad gives a wet smile, “Yeah, you are. My little trooper… God, didn’t think we’d be back in this place so quickly. We’ve, uh, practically moved in at this point.”

Kurt groans, “Don’t.”

A hand brushes over a bald head underneath a baseball cap, “We've got you the best care… Your friends came in too. Both groups of ‘em… McKinley and those Warbler kids.”

Kurt side-eyes him, his throat swallows the rock in his throat, “Blaine too?”

“He's the one that looks like a little adult, right?” Kurt nods with a weak smile, “Yeah, he did, a few hours after you were first admitted, actually. Said he saw your car all busted up on the way here and freaked out. Left some flowers too.”

His dad gives him a knowing glance, pointing at the bouquet of yellows and oranges that pop out in the clinical look of his room. Kurt feels his heart clench in his chest, and the ache of his brow grows immensely.

“He was real worried about you, kid.”

“Yeah…” Blaine really was the perfect boyfriend, wasn’t he? Too bad he didn’t want to be Kurt’s. God, he feels pathetic. He’s sitting in the hospital with a busted face and still wants to cry and gorge himself on ice cream in Rachel Berry’s room because Blaine Warbler won’t like him back. “When am I getting out, do you know?”

“I could go and ask, if you want. I, uh, haven’t checked.” 

“Mmm,” Kurt replies with a mumble, “It’s okay. Thank you.”

“Alright, get your beauty sleep,” At this, Kurt smiles weakly and feels a tight squeeze on his hand, before it goes cold, and Kurt allows himself to drift off back to sleep. 

  
  
  


“Got any twos?”

“Go fish. Okay… hmm, got any kings?”

“Wh- What? How are you so good at this game, man? This is like… your third pair in a row!” Finn hands over his king wondrously, eyebrows scrunched together. 

Kurt smiles smugly, “Card games are a hidden talent of mine.”

He won’t tell Finn that he just remembers what cards he’s asked for in the past, because he’s enjoying teasing him far too much. He’s sure he remembers Rachel trying to teach Finn “Go Fish” strategy once before, but Finn's brain is a well-greased non-stick pan when it comes to retaining information. 

Finn and Carole have stopped by on multiple occasions since he was admitted to the hospital, Puck tags along when he has nothing better to do and his Mom isn’t cooking dinner, Mercedes, Brittany, Santana and Rachel came yesterday after Glee practice, and Blaine came by a little bit after he woke up - and texting him relentlessly for the days he can’t. The car accident seemed like a welcome buffer to the awkward nature of their friendship after Kurt’s confession. He’s almost thankful. 

Ever since Finn walked in, took one look at Kurt’s face and immediately reacted with, “Woah, you look like shit, man.” The boy has been a strangely welcome distraction to the fact that his face aches dully and makes him _feel_ like shit _._

“I think we should play snap instead.” Finn states confidently. 

“Yeah, okay, ask the guy with a _broken wrist and eye socket_ to play snap.” Kurt huffs. 

“Oh, shit. Yeah.” Finn takes a moment to think, before smiling, “Hey, I actually chose your cast colour, y’know?”

“ _What?”_ Kurt borderline screeches, “You’re responsible for this completely monstrous parasite on my _arm?_ Where the hell did you get the pull for that?”

Finn shrinks back, which is amusing considering, well, _him,_ “Dude, what’s wrong with it? It’s totally cool-looking. Mom mentioned it to me ‘cuz she was on call at the time and I was like, "Yeah, green is an awesome color," so she suggested it.”

Kurt’s mouth hangs open, “It-It is neon green, Finn!”

“I know right? Totally sick.”

“Oh my god,” Kurt falls back onto the pillows.

“It’s cool, you totally look like the creature from the Black Lagoon, man.”

“Finn, I’m not exactly sure what part of myself implied to you that I wanted to look like the creature from the Black Lagoon, but I would like to know so I can change it - _now.”_

“You’ve only got it for 6 weeks, calm down.” Finn pouts and cleans up the cards in a very mopey, teenage boy way. 

Kurt sighs, “I’m sorry, Finn. Look, I didn’t even hate the film that much.”

“I knew you liked my movies!”

“I reiterate - I did not hate the film as much as I do some other films. That mantis film was an affront against humanity.”

“It’s fun though, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“D- Kurt, you're way more snippy than usual. Well. I guess it’s ‘cuz you’re in a hospital, huh?” Finn leans back in the guest chair, and looks around the room glumly. Blaine’s flowers are wilting slightly, and Brittany’s Valentines’-cum-Get-Well teddy bear sits limped against the glass jug-cum-vase. It’s not the prettiest room, but Kurt’s only stuck in here for a day or two more. “Reminds me of when Burt was here… Uh… I… That was really hard on you, I bet.”

Kurt closes his eyes slowly, because he doesn’t want to talk about this, let alone with _Finn_ , but he just nods quietly. 

“Carole told me about what happened to your… Mom. I-”

“That’s enough, Finn.”

“I’m trying to be a brother, Kurt.” Finn frowns, “We need to talk about this stuff, man.”

“Would you be open to talk about your dad with me? In an incredibly verbose, sensitive and emotionally upfront way?” Kurt hisses, and he gets instant karma when his head starts to sting. 

“Man, I don’t know what that means.” Finn taps his fingers on the mattress nervously. Kurt almost wants to grab his fingers and push them off his bed, but worries that Finn will freak out. So, he doesn’t.

He just lets out a slow puff of air, “Finn, I don’t want to talk about my mom.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, Kurt. Honest.” Finn hums quietly, “Do you… um, remember the crash?”

Kurt sighs, “Out of the frying pan and into the fire… Fine. I give in. Finn, I do remember the crash, I guess. In chunks. Is that what you were inquiring about?”

Finn frowns, “Well, yeah. I don’t know. It was like, weird to me, Kurt. You’re, like, the best driver I know. You always stop at stop signs and follow the speed limit and not like, run over mail men. It's like, made you like… failable.”

“It’s fallible, Finn. The word you’re looking for is fallible.” Kurt feels his head throb at his own words, and moves to turn up the pain medication dosage, “I’m sorry that I disappointed you then, Finn.”

“Du- Kurt. That’s so not what I’m talking about, man. You know that.”

“I know. Half of my face is mangled and my arm is covered in damn Nickelodeon slime, I’m allowed to be a little cranky.” Kurt drums his left hand on his stomach nervously, “It was icy and dark. I saw a deer on the road. I… freaked out and swerved. I don’t remember much after that.”

“Uh, at least the deer was alright. When I crashed my mom’s car into that mailman, he had a broken leg. That sucked, like, for him. And me, it kinda messed me and my mom up.” Finn gives him a weak smile, “so I totally get this. You can talk to me about it if you’re messed up over it too… Like real brothers.”

It hurts to smile truly, but Kurt tries to return one for Finn’s sake, “You’ve made your point. I’ll think about it.”

“Cool.” Finn nods to himself, “You wanna play gin rummy?”

“I… Don’t know how to play that.”

“Woah, really?” Finn asks, “Alright, this is so in the guide book of, like, being a good big brother, I’ll teach you.”

“You are not the big brother.” 

“Yeah, but I’m, like, taller.”

“Not how it works - at all.” Kurt huffs, but allows Finn to demonstrate the rules, cards laid out over the bedsheets. Kurt tries to listen, but can’t focus, just hears the heartbeat monitor beep behind him, and feels his eyes drawn to the wilting colours of Blaine’s bouquet. He thinks, for a moment, lets the feelings rush over him, and closes his eyes quietly. 

  
  
  


His dad won’t leave his side. This is something Kurt expected. He’s beginning to feel like his dad and him have this symbiotic relationship - Kurt spent the last three months caring and fussing over his dad’s health, so now his dad has the strength to fuss over him. He thinks that his dad is trying to make up for something he could never do. 

“I’m beginning to understand how you felt back when you had that heart attack now.” Kurt swallows deeply, the words “heart attack” still put an nasty taste in his mouth. His dad is watching him like a hawk as he tries to traverse up the stairs on unsteady, weak legs, but Kurt’s words place a smile on his grim face. 

“It’s in the Hummel blood to worry.”

“A bit too much,” Kurt replies breathily, “We worry too much.”

“Kurt…” Burt places a strong hand on Kurt’s bicep looking into his eyes with that way-too-sincere expression, and it makes Kurt feel sick, “I don’t wanna lose you, you know that. That car accident? That tree you slammed into? If it had a branch, or something, you coulda been seriously hurt. _More_ than you already are.”

Kurt tries not to cry, “I don’t wanna lose you either.”

Burt pats his shoulder comfortingly, and opens his bedroom door for him, “Dalton’s gonna start sending work home for you. Don’t worry about your studies too much, okay? I want you to get better before you start trying to work at 100% when you’re at 30%.”

“I’m at more than 30%.” Kurt frowns, sitting down quietly on his bed as his dad drops his backpack next to him, “I could hit 65%, maybe.”

Burt snorts, “Finn told me when he opened the car door for you, you almost fell out.”

“That is not a fair point, he didn’t warn me beforehand.” Kurt grumbles.

“Keep telling yourself that, kiddo.” Burt puts some of the medication prescribed by the doctor on Kurt’s bedside table, mostly painkillers, and takes a deep breath, “You rest up until you get the all clear from your doctor, okay? I don’t want you going out, walking around, shopping or anything. Definitely no driving. The Navigator’s knocked up pretty bad.” 

Kurt pouts, “You think I’ll be fine by Regionals?”

“When’s that again? I can ask Carole.”

“March.”

Burt nods in response, “We’ll see. Shout if you need anything, and I mean, _anything_ , Kurt. None of this quiet suffering stuff, okay?”

Kurt puts his hands up, “I promise. Cross my heart.”

“Alright,” Burt scratches at his head underneath his baseball cap, “Alright... y’know, uh, lay down. Watch a movie or something.”

Kurt neglects to say that with his blurry eyesight, it will all just look like a colourful blur to him, so he just waves his dad off and lays against the cold pillows and neat bed sheets gingerly. His bag sits at the edge of his feet, but he makes no move to push it away. Just stares at where the contents spill out, the darkness seeping into the bottom and making it look like a complete void. 

There’s a part of him that still feels like he’s still in that car, driving down the stretch of road connecting Westerville and Lima. He’s been there since the accident. He’s just waiting to reach the main road of Lima, turning off into the suburbs, to come home and greet his dad and help prepare dinner. To text Blaine before he goes to bed, to judge Mercedes’ outfit tomorrow or to slam on Finn’s door to shut him up. He’s left that part there, and he doesn’t know how to get it back, or if he even should. 

  
  
  


“I was in a car accident once,” Brittany starts from where she lays down across Kurt’s feet, Santana sitting on one of his armchairs next to the bed. “It was super scary.”

“Really?” Kurt asks.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh.” Kurt blinks slowly, “Why did you say you were?”

Brittany hums quietly, “Artie’s been telling me that sharing experiences can be good. He feels really bad about your accident because he had one when he was a kid too.”

Santana grumbles beside her, and flicks her hair over her shoulder, “Britts, he was put in a wheelchair because of his accident.”

“Oh yeah.” Brittany nods slowly to herself, like she knew that all along, “You won’t look as cool as Artie does in a wheelchair, Kurt.”

Kurt tries to let out a laugh, but fails because he can’t bring himself to, “Is that an insult?”

Santana starts to braid her own hair forcefully, “Britts is just being pathetically moony over Wheels again. Just ignore her, Lady.”

Well, he didn’t miss that at Dalton.

Thinking of Artie, and what happened to Artie, makes him feel sick. There’s so much that could have gone wrong, so many bad things that could have happened, that he would have had to live with for the rest of his life. All the scars he has to show for his is the fact his nose has a chance that it will be set crookedly. He swallows to himself and tries to dispel the tears.

“Santana,” Brittany sounds sad.

“Don’t say my name like that… We’re here for Hummelina.” She replies quietly, “Hey, Britts, show him what you got him.” 

Brittany jumps up with a clap, and rushes over to her backpack and pulls out a Barbie convertible car about as big as a tissue box. Kurt can swear his eyes bug out of his head, where Santana snickers to herself. 

“Finn told me your dad has to fix your car, and I know you really liked it because you wouldn’t let me touch you in there when we were dating, so I thought you could use this for a while instead.” Brittany sets the car on Kurt’s open hands. 

“I… Brittany, I don’t know what to say…” Kurt grins weakly, ignoring the strain it puts on his face, “I don’t think I can fit in this though. But thank you…?”

“Well, if you can’t fit, you can give it to your tiny friend…” Brittany nods to herself. “I don’t need it back, I stole it from my sister.”

“My tiny friend, Rachel?”

“No, the one with the Garglers.”

Kurt chokes on a laugh, “Wait, Blaine?”

Brittany nods again as Santana laughs uproariously. 

“I’ll ask if he wants to give it a test drive at some point. Uh, but, thanks… Again.”

  
  
  


“Will the nose job affect your singing voice? Kurt, listen to me, it’s very important.”

Kurt is currently flipping through some of the sheet music Rachel wants to perform in Glee Club this week. He’s surprised she isn’t going on about being a betrayer to her own show choir, and feeding the enemy information, but he likes to think this is her attempt at worrying and extending an olive branch.

“Firstly, it’s not a nose job. And secondly, no, my singing voice will be fine.” Kurt states, and when he notices the sheet music for My Heart Will Go On, promptly folds it and pushes it to the side. 

“Wait, wait, what’s wrong with Celine?” 

“You are _not_ singing that in an attempt to woo Finn.”

Rachel makes an offended noise before collecting her sheet music from beneath Kurt’s hands, “I am not wooing Finn any more. I’m moving on. If he… If he wants to date Quinn Fabray, he can.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow, and Rachel nervously looks at the open door, “Can we close the door?”

“Finn’s out. He can’t hear.”

Rachel’s quiet for a moment before, “At Quinn’s?”

“I don’t know, Rachel.”

She frowns, before nodding resolutely, “Well, whatever, I’m not going to sing it for Finn.”

“Then what’s with all these sad break-up songs? Just your usual dose of empathy, Rachel? Is Sam and Quinn’s break-up _that_ sad?” Kurt drawls.

“I will be dedicating all of my solos this week in Glee to you.”

Kurt's eyes open minutely, “What? Why?”

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, “Every star has that moment in their life where they have a brush with death. They always talk about it as if it is something that changes their lives, that gives them the will to live and the passion to thrive.” 

Rachel nods to herself, determined, “It’s very romantic and something I have now experienced.”

Kurt wants to raise an eyebrow, but his face won't let him, so he tries to look appropriately suspicious, “Okay, and what’s your brush with death?”

“Oh, it’s not my brush with death, it’s yours.”

There it is.

“Rachel, at no point did I brush with death, actually, I’m very much okay. And you know what, I'm not going to let you use my car accident as your own experience.”

Rachel whines, and grabs onto Kurt’s hands, “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we? If I had a brush with death, I would absolutely let you use it to invigorate you for your own performance! You are being so selfish right now!”

Kurt tries not to laugh at the look in her eyes, “Alright, fine, Rachel. Use my broken wrist and busted up face as something to add to your performances.”

Rachel squeals and moves to hug him, but Kurt keeps her steadfastly at arm’s length, “Alright, no hugs. I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

“No Celine Dion,” Rachel’s mouth opens to retort, but Kurt shushes her, “No, Rachel, _you_ listen. We are nothing like Rose and Jack. Don't make me barf.”

“Okay, okay.” Rachel nods to herself, “Fine, okay, I can deal with that. _My Heart Will Go On_ is so cliche anyway.”

“You’ve said as much.”

They spend the next 30 minutes debating _(I Just) Died In Your Arms_ and _Nothing Compares 2 U_ , before Rachel decides to escort herself suspiciously abruptly from the room, once she hears the sound of an engine shutting off, outside Kurt’s window. 

After, when Kurt’s left laying on his bed quietly, he wonders if he feels any different. Does he feel more invigorated? Is he impassioned with the will to live? When the car jerked to the right abruptly, and the sight of the tree he was straight for was gaining in distance, was it actually just an attempt to find the passion to thrive? 

  
  
  


Carole comes in every morning and gives him a fresh ice pack and checks his medication. It’s actually been a fairly good way for the two to bond, given the unusual circumstances. Blaine likes to send him good morning texts that make Kurt’s chest burn when he reads them. He doesn’t think he ever felt this way about Finn or Sam. He thinks Blaine hurts him more than the car crash ever did, and he never knows how to feel about it. Blaine would probably cry if he told him, so there’s no closure there.

The phone lights up with a new text, and Carole smiles when she notices who it’s from. 

“He’s very sweet.” Carole comments, “That Blaine.”

“He’s giving me a cavity. And diabetes.” Kurt mutters. Carole chuckles to herself.

“Any moves being made yet?” 

Kurt’s heart sinks. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, let alone with his step-mother, even if she is kind and his dad’s second soulmate. “He… doesn’t consider himself boyfriend material. Let alone boyfriend material for me.”

Carole hums quietly, “That’s a shame. You two were cute together at Finn’s football game a few months ago.”

Kurt feels like shouting, “I know! God, do I know!” but he just stays silent.

“Has he changed his mind yet?”

“What?”

“The boyfriend material comment…” Carole places the ice pack gently against the side of his face, despite how little swelling that resides, “It was a while ago, though, right?”

Kurt feels like laughing, but he just gives a sarcastic, crooked smile, “Actually, just the day before my accident.”

Carole goes silent, the ice pack in her hand pressing against his face coolly, “Oh.”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’. Tries not to scream and cry about how unfair it is, how he just wants someone to love him in _that way_ and not try and sexually harass him in place of actual romance. He can feel the burning in his chest again, so he just looks at a spot on the wall. He loves silence more than ever recently. Everyone wants to _talk._ About this or that or "are you sure you're alright Kurt". He just wants to be alone for the time being. Maybe play gin rummy with Finn again, if he could. 

“I know you’re a guarded person, Kurt…” Carole starts, and Kurt almost closes his eyes and groans, “but I want to talk to you about your mom.”

Oh, now there are the tears.

“Your dad told me she died in a car accident.”

Kurt can see how everyone’s worried, but they shouldn’t be worried about him, when his dad almost lost two people to car accidents, _and_ he’s a mechanic. Kurt’s fine.

He’s fine. 

“It must be very shocking to be in a car accident, knowing how much they can hurt people. Like your friend, Artie.”

“And my mom.” Kurt whispers.

“And your mom.”

Kurt hums weakly, and his voice goes so faint at parts it fails to register completely. Carole hesitantly brushes his brown hair under a gentle hand. 

“Lots of people suffer trauma after car accidents, Kurt.” Carole states quietly, resting the ice pack on her lap and picking her hand off of his hair, “We - Burt and I - are just wondering if you’d want to seek counselling?”

Kurt feels like turning to the side and puking everywhere. 

“Like Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell?” Kurt jokes weakly, “I don’t think she’ll help.”

Carole laughs along gently, a twinkling sound, “No, a more… esteemed one… If you want.”

If Kurt wants.

“I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it in distant concepts, but not realistically, for the rest of the day. 

  
  
  


Kurt’s sitting depressed at his vanity, pouting as he eyes all of the self-care products he can’t use because of the stupid growth on his arm and messed up face. He feels disgusting, thinking of the sweaty, unwashed skin underneath the cast. Gross. 

“Dalton Courier, I’ve got a package for Mr. Hummel?” A familiar voice calls from downstairs, and Kurt hasn’t seen him for a week, and now feels a little ill again. 

He breathes in deeply, “He’s up here.”

Blaine pops his perfectly gelled head through the door, and waves a stack of coursework, “Got all your homework here.” 

“Just leave it on the bed.” Kurt gestures, and Blaine does so gently, before walking over and sitting at the edge of it.

“You look a lot better.” 

“I feel better.” Physically, he does. Emotionally, he feels like a mess that can’t find where the pre-car accident Kurt went. He’s somewhere. Kurt just has to figure it out. He’ll get there without a counselor's help as well. 

Blaine smiles at him, before pointing at the skin care products, “Missing those?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Kurt sighs, “I feel like my skin is drying and cracking off. Along with that, I can barely shower with this stupid cast on. I’m gonna be a pimply mess by the time I get back to Dalton.”

“Well, if anyone calls you pepperoni face, I’ll beat them up… And then we’ll both get expelled for bullying.”

Kurt eyes Blaine’s easy smile in the mirror of his vanity, and tries to mimic it, “My hero.”

“I try.” Blaine puffs out his chest, before deflating quietly, “I don’t think I could’ve protected you from a car accident.”

Kurt hums to himself, rearranging the bottles on his vanity by colour. 

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice has a strange tone to it, which makes Kurt pause, because it’s a tone he’s heard far too often recently, “I… Um…” 

Kurt stares at him in the mirror, “Yes?”

“I saw your beat-up car, y’know. Um, the Navigator.” Blaine usually doesn’t sound this awkward, and Kurt begins to feel nervous, “When I drove to the hospital.”

“Oh.” Kurt says quietly, “That must have been quite a shock for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was.” Blaine scratches his head, the curls escaping from the gel after what would have been a long school day. “The, um, the road.”

Kurt feels his blood go cold.

“Y’know, it really wasn’t that, uh, well. Icy.” Blaine laughs nervously to himself, “And I was really confused when I got there, like super confused, and your Dad was telling me that you must have spun out because of some ice. Which was why I was confused, because I didn’t see any, but it was like 11pm when I drove down, and your, uh, crash was at 5, and I didn’t want to stress your dad out. And then, Rachel texted me, which at first I was weirded out, because I have no idea how she got my number, and she told me that she heard from Mercedes who heard from Finn that you were trying to dodge a deer. And I was like “What?” because, well.”

Kurt meets Blaine's eyes firmly, and there’s something icy in his own expression that makes Blaine pause, “Deer don’t live in that part of Westerville.”

“T-there was. This time. It must have… gotten lost.” The lie sounds weak to his own ears. 

Blaine stays quiet, before standing up, and Kurt can see the hand coming down to rest on his shoulder, but before it connects, Kurt just chokes out a broken, “Don’t.”

He knows that after concussions, people tend to forget the events leading before their injury. It's happened a few times in Glee, someone gets too overzealous with a dance move and hits their head coming down. One time when he was working on an outfit for school, Finn dared Puck to kick himself in the head - and he did, quite well, in fact, because he had to sit in the lounge dazed while Kurt jabbed him every time he tried to sleep. When he got back from the hospital, he hadn't a clue what happened. But the fact is this, Kurt remembers almost every part of the drive. He remembers driving home from Dalton after a difficult school day. Blaine punctuated every sentence with an awkward laugh, and every glance was pitying. He knew Blaine must have thought him stupid - pathetic, even. Crushing on another guy who doesn’t like him back. He remembers driving home, radio turned off and the will to sing along buried deep underneath this _misery_ embedded in his body. He thinks about the only boy to like him - then he thought about how _alone_ Karofsky is, in Homophobia Central, and then thinks about how bone-deep the chill was when thinking about _that_ kiss. Kurt wanted to die. He didn’t even think twice about it - jerking his steering wheel hard to the right and his foot throbbing against the accelerator. He knew that car crashes killed, and if he did this, there might be a slim chance he could see his mom again. 

But when he awoke, he saw the white walls of a hospital, and his dad with tears in his eyes. He knew he couldn't tell him the truth of how he ran off the road. He had fully expected to die. Now he’s sitting at his vanity and watching Blaine fidget with his blazer, and doesn't want anyone to _know_.

“Sorry.“ Blaine puts his hands up innocently, but continues to stand behind him, “Kurt, did you… mean to do… that?”

“I- I want you to leave. Really.” Kurt wipes away a tear, “I really really want you to leave.”

Blaine looks at him with those _fucking_ eyes again. “Kurt…”

“Please leave.”

“I think we should talk about this…” Blaine starts, but Kurt shakes his head almost violently.

“You can’t help me with anything.” Kurt looks at him with red eyes and tears down his face, “Blaine. You can't protect me from a... car accident.”

“We’ll always be friends, Kurt.” Kurt’s chest gets that burning feeling again, “Friends help each other.” 

Kurt looks off to the side, “I’ll scream if you don’t leave soon.”

He can sense Blaine’s fingers clenching into fists into his Dalton slacks, and imagines that his face is pitying at best. There’s another movement, where he can feel the warmth of Blaine’s hand hovering over his shoulder, before going back to his side as if burnt. A quick glance in the mirror shows Blaine swallow, nod and take a step back.

“I’ll… be back, uh, in a few days for your homework. If… you need help. You can text me. For anything. Homework, uh, outfit opinions, Other… things.” Blaine’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “I’ve always got an open ear.”

Kurt nods quietly, “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Kurt.” 

The sound of Blaine thumping down the stairs and saying goodbye to his parents is muffled over the blood rushing through his eyes. He wants to scream and cry and throw all of his products to the ground and watch it seep through the floorboards. He wants to rip up all of his Dalton work and tell Blaine to shove it. But he doesn’t - he just watches the tears seep down his bruised face and breathes.

  
  
  


The next morning, Kurt sends Blaine a simple good morning text, and then apologizes for his behaviour. Carole comes in as he sends it, and he quietly puts his phone back on his bedside table. She sits next to his bed with his medication and smiles at him.

“Talking to Blaine again?” she asks.

Kurt just breathes.

“Yesterday, I was. And, he, well. I-I, um. Don’t tell dad, but I think - ah, no. There was actually no deer at all. And the roads weren’t slippery. Like at all.” He laughs a little bit, and Carole’s smiling face turns curious, “I… crashed my car on purpose."

Carole looks horrified for a moment, and he watches tears gather at her eyes as she drops the medication onto his blanket. He feels like a piece of shit. 

"I-I’m sorry.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Just like his own crash, Kurt remembers his mom’s. No, that’s an oversimplification. He remembers the aftermath. He remembers the hospital. 

_Kurt had never been in a hospital before. Well, this was the first time he recognized he was in one. A few months ago Dad showed him some photos of tiny, red Kurt in a hospital, cradled in his mom’s arms in a soft blanket. His dad then showed him the blanket now, an ugly matted thing, for Kurt to say simply, “I would never sleep with that.” His dad laughed._

_His dad wasn’t laughing when they drove to the hospital, or when he was ushered inside a white, sterilized room. Kurt was sitting on a stupid plastic chair in the waiting room, outside the one his dad went into with a pale face. He didn’t know much. He knew that his mom was hurt. He knew there was a car accident and his mom was in it, and that he can barely stay awake, but the plastic chairs were_ not _comfortable enough to sleep in. There’s a distinct sound of babies crying. Kurt’s too confused to cry._

_His aunt was meant to come in and look after him, but Dad said she was too drunk to drive, so he’s alone and waiting for his Mom and Dad to come out, so they can go home and have Friday night dinner. It’s a tradition. So she has to come home with them, because all of Dad’s cooking tastes like char and grease and salt and makes Kurt turn his nose up. After what feels like hours, his dad walked out, and his face was wet and red and there was a part of Kurt that broke at the sight._

_“Dad?” His squeaky voice managed to get out, and it was a little moment before Burt carefully dropped to his knees in front of him, hands gripping the sides of the chair before settling on his own thighs._

_“Kurt,” His dad’s voice breaks. “Your mom…”_

_“She can come home right?”_

_The doctor in a white lab spotted with something distinctly red on the sleeves comes out of his mom’s room. Kurt thinks that it has to be someone else’s blood. Someone fell off the monkey bars and fell on the bark wrong and the blood wouldn’t stop with just a kiss and a bandage. They had to go to hospital for it and get fixed up. The doctor stared at Burt with something resembling pity._

_“She has to.”_

_“Kurt,” Burt sobs, “Momma’s not coming home.”_

It’s not something he likes thinking back on. It was probably the first of many times that he felt like he couldn’t breathe, that his world was crashing around him and he couldn’t even trust his dad to pick up the pieces. It broke both of them, when he thinks about it. Kurt had to grow up then, in a moment, and be there for his dad. It’s different now, with Carole and Finn. Kurt has the opportunity to be a normal teenager again, but it’s not so easy to break the habit. He’s used to being strong and silent about it. There’s a difficulty opening up about his issues he doesn’t think he’s used to fully, especially sharing the load with adults. 

Carole grapples onto his hand and looked him deep in the eyes, “Kurt, why would you do that?”

Tears form at the corners of his eyes, “I don’t know.”

“You have to tell Burt, Kurt. You have to get _help_.” Carole simpers, and both hands are squeezing Kurt’s free one. Kurt shakes his head and his bottom lip quivers. 

“No. No, you can’t. H-he’s sick. He’ll have another heart attack.” Kurt spits out. 

“He’s getting better, and he wants to know about his son. His son who’s so obviously _suffering_. He can handle it, Kurt, I promise you.” 

“What if he d-doesn’t? If he finds out, it’ll _kill_ him, Carole.” Kurt takes the opportunity to glare at Carole, suitably trying to scare her into silence, “You can’t do that to him.”

His dad can’t know. If his dad knows, and it scares him or pushes him off the edge into another heart attack, Kurt would have _nothing_. He’d be all alone and with no one in his corner. He doesn’t care about Blaine or Finn or Carole if his Dad isn’t around. His Dad’s been there for him forever, if he’s gone, Kurt doesn’t know what he’d do. 

Blaine said to tell people, and he is. He’s telling Carole, and that’s all that matters. She knows now, and Kurt isn’t sure he’s feeling that relief that’s meant to come with sharing secrets right now, but he’s done what Blaine wants. 

No one can get mad at him for that. 

Carole looks conflicted, “Kurt…” 

“He could die, Carole.” Kurt sobs, “H-he’s all I have.”

“If I don’t tell… Burt…” Carole starts hesitantly, “Can you see a therapist? Please? For me… and your father?”

Kurt presses his lips together, “You won’t tell him?”

Carole nods weakly.

Kurt looks off to the side, “I’ll give it a shot. Just _don’t_ tell him. Please.”

Carole makes a quiet, indistinguishable noise, before her hand continues to brush over his matted, unwashed hair. _That’ll have to be fixed later_ , Kurt thinks mildly, before turning on the television without much fanfare. 

There. He told someone. 

  
  
  


To: **Blaine W. :D**

_I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I promise I’m alright._

From: **Blaine W. :D**

_I’m just glad you’re alright, Kurt. Have you told anyone?_

To: **Blaine W. :D**

_I told Carole._

From: **Blaine W. :D**

_What happens now?_

To: **Blaine W. :D**

_Might get a therapist. That’s what she said, at least._

From: **Blaine W. :D**

_I’m happy. Really. I want you to be alright. We can talk more once you get back to Dalton :) x_

  
  
  


“I’m kind of thinking the drawback for being surrounded by so many prep-school boys was the car accident.” Kurt starts jokingly, “Too many good things at once.”

Mercedes lets out a startled giggle, before hitting his unmangled arm good-naturedly, “Kurt, that is _so_ bad.”

“Karma.” Kurt continues, “But, maybe that uniform could’ve been karma enough. Ergh.”

Mercedes works on painting her nails while Geordie Shore plays in the background (he swears by all that is certifiably _not real_ and holy that this is Mercedes’ choice) and gives him an unimpressed stare, “You are the _worst_ car crash survivor I’ve _ever_ met.” 

Kurt keeps his chuckle mild, “I’m looking on the brighter side of things.”

“Some bright side, white boy.” Mercedes snorts, “But I saw that _Blaine_ left you flowers when you were in the hospital. That’s pretty interesting.” 

Kurt wants to groan and potentially throw that vase full of wilted flowers on the ground. Blaine should _not_ be everyone’s first thought. Brittany bought him a Barbie convertible and Rachel sang him a song, where are their praises? Instead of complaining, he just pouts, “Still nothing. I thought car accidents would be all romantic and _Days-of-our-Lives_ -y.”

“That he’d see your busted face and immediately fall head over heels in love with you?”

Kurt nods.

“Daytime TV has _rot_ your brain, Kurt.”

Kurt cannot deny that. He’s going stir crazy and it’s only been a little over a week. 

“Rachel keeps texting me all of the “amazing new ways I’ll experience life” now that I’ve completely ruined my ride… and my face. So far, I’ve just realized how many soap operas reuse the same plot line and how to text with two hands with this stupid _thing_ on my arm.” Kurt drawls. 

“Don’t get me started on Rachel. She has been running _me_ ragged with a week of over dramatic 80s ballads dedicated to her ‘best gay’. You really gave her the okay for these?”

“I helped her with some of them.” 

“ _Time After Time_?”

“Sure.”

“ _Every Time You Go Away_?”

“She sold it to me.” Kurt muses.

“Uh huh. _All Out of Love?”_

Kurt gasps, “I did _not_ give her permission for that! She is taking advantage of my good will!”

Mercedes snorts.

“She’ll be over it soon.” Kurt sighs, “You know how she gets.”

“Oh, _I know.”_ Mercedes watches the TV for a little bit, both of them in silent contemplation. It’s not exactly _weird_ , per se, but it’s unusual for them, Kurt thinks. They haven’t been friends for long, but he doesn’t really know how long it takes for their silences to become… _more._ Just a lot more… there. And frequent. He’s never had a friend before Mercedes. Maybe he’s finding it difficult to merge Dalton Kurt with McKinley Kurt. Maybe add a bit of post-crash Kurt there too. There’s too many of him lately. 

He notices Mercedes eyeing him guiltily out of the corner of his eyes, and makes a questioning noise at her when he catches her gaze. She puts her nail polish down on the bedside table. 

“Your crash was kind of… mentioned around town a lot.” She starts, “Not like, a wildfire of news coverage - thank god - but people knew about it for a bit. Knew that the victim was a… y’know. 17-year-old male. Young, and went to school with me.” 

“I didn’t even think about that.” Kurt muses, “Fame comes in interesting ways. What’s your point?”

“I know you hated it when it was about your dad. But my church prayed for you, Kurt. Held an entire little service for you even, prayed for you to be safe and get better, and be back to school soon. It was... really good. Really _nice_.”

Kurt stays quiet for a moment. 

“Maybe it was because they didn’t know I was gay.”

Mercedes groans, “Kurt-”

“No, you’re right.” Kurt sighs, “I’m sorry. That was really nice of them.”

Now he wonders what they’d be more mad about - the fact he’s gay, or the fact it was basically an attempted suicide.

“I know you didn’t like people praying for your dad, but we prayed for you anyway. It’s the way we express ourselves, and how we sympathise.” Mercedes’ gaze is open, caring and well-meaning, but it just makes Kurt feel even more like shit. “People care about you, Kurt.” 

The hand on his free one feels like it’s scathing, “They do.”

Mercedes perks up, “So you… don’t mind?”

Kurt tries not to grimace, “It’s very sweet of them.” 

“That’s good… Maybe you’d want to come next Sunday… With your family. Let everyone know you’re alright.” Mercedes’ smile grows and shakes his hand against the covers good-naturedly, and Kurt just feels sick. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the sympathy, it’s, well, he just doesn’t want to do anything. He failed. Let the entire thing be brushed over. He wants to get his life back on track, not go out in the community and talk about how much of an accident it was, how scared he was for that poor deer, when all he felt was determination, and maybe a bit of fear at his own one-track-mind. He wanted to die, and that was it. Talking about in any other context makes the words taste like ash in his mouth. He doesn’t want to scare Mercedes away. He doesn’t know how she’ll react. She’s already been pushed away enough. 

He wants to keep his first friend, so he says, “We’ll see what my dad says.”

She seems satisfied. Kurt wonders if he’s allowed to puke now. 

  
  
  


“You can’t stop me from driving forever.” Kurt comments glumly, resting against Finn’s beat-up hatchback that looks about two car key turns from crumbling apart. He almost feels like saying that he bets Finn’s car looks worse than his own, but he’s not sure his dad can take it. 

“You’re right, but I can sure as hell delay it.” Now that most of the swelling’s gone down, and Kurt no longer looks like he was stuck in a chimney for the past three weeks, he finally threw in the towel to go back to school. Of course he expected some pushback, but not like _this._

“You seem to forget Finn almost killed a mailman.” Kurt looks disdainful, and glares at the front door, “Two hours there and two hours back. Two hours after school… and then… two hours baaack home…” 

“And _you_ seem to forget you’re not even allowed to drive yourself with a broken wrist and with your vision barely recovered.”

Damn it. His dad’s got him there. 

“I just don’t think this is the greatest idea. The painkillers are, like, _really_ badly affecting my mood, I’m more irritable and tired, and I might kill Finn in the car. I really can’t control my hands either.” Kurt pauses, before gasping dramatically, “I know, why don’t we let _me_ drive and if I start seeing double, Finn can take over?”

“Look, kid, I know you’re getting antsy because you’re usually so independent and that’s all been ripped away from you for the past two weeks, but this is step one. I just don’t want anything to happen when you’re healing.” His dad pats Kurt’s shoulder good-naturedly, “Just let him drive you to school. Blare the radio or something if he gets on your nerves. You’ll… You’ll be back to drivin’ in no time.”

Kurt gulps, “I just miss my car.”

“We’ll get it back to you soon. Bud. Me and the guys at the shop are workin’ _tirelessly_ on it.”

From his position against Finn’s car, he spies Carole opening the door to a bumbling, bleary-eyed Finn, rattling the car keys against his jeans thoughtlessly. He almost trips on the top step, which makes both Burt and Kurt cringe, before giving a dorky wave at the two of them.

“It’s so _early_ , man.” Finn groans.

“You get used to it, Finn.” Kurt comments passively. 

Burt glares at Finn, in that parental I-am-severely-worried-about-you way, “You sure you’re up to this, Finn?”

Finn grunts, “Yeah, yeah. Uh. Um. Yeah, definitely. Totally, Burt. Plus you and Mom are busy, right?”

“We can take the day off if you’re not sure.” Burt frowns, “Kurt’s safety comes first. You know he’s not in the condition for any more car accidents.” 

“You can trust me. I’ll totally get him there and back without even, like, ruining his hair.” Finn has those big puppy dog eyes turned straight on a stern Burt. Kurt refrains from rolling his eyes at his behaviour. 

“It’ll only be until I get _your_ stupid cast off, Finn.” Kurt snarks. 

Finn whines, “When will you stop getting mad about that, dude?”

Kurt grunts unattractively and shakes his head, before turning on Finn to hug his dad, and from the corner of his eye sees Carole fretting at the door. They share a glance, Kurt’s gaze hard and her own quaintly worried. She’s kept her promise, so one day, Kurt will keep his. He gets into the car while Burt continues to lecture Finn, the dopey, tall boy looking sheepish yet surprisingly attentive. There’s a part of Kurt that doesn’t comprehend the fuss from anyone that isn’t his own dad. They’ve only known him for a year. Finn for even longer, but that started out with him getting locker slammed, so Kurt’s not sure if that counts. 

Finn gets in after a while, fumbling with his keys, and when the car finally starts, Kurt turns the radio up almost immediately. Finn notices and gives him a mildly hurt look, but he just looks out the window, cutting off contact immediately. There’s no reason to listen to even more “bro talk”. Kurt’s had it up to _here_ with concern. It’s exhausting. 

About an hour into the drive, the radio - playing something dad rock-y and Finn-y and _so_ not Kurt’s cup of tea - quietens down considerably, and when Kurt looks to see what’s going on, Finn’s staring at him with an awkward expression, drumming his fingers against the wheel. 

“So, you, uh, happy to be back at school?” Finn starts, confidence waning with every word.

“What are you, my grandmother?” Kurt scoffs, before looking back out the window and spitting, “Haven’t gotten there yet, Finn, but sure.”

“That’s cool. Yeah.” Finn nods to himself, “So... What’s it like in the Warblers? Puck was tellin’ me they’re a super gay school, which I guess makes sense because it’s an all-boys school, which I bet is super cool… for you… because you’re...”

Kurt glares. “Gay?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

The silence starts up again, and Kurt moves for the radio again, but Finn stops his hand abruptly, “No, man, let’s talk.”

“Haven’t we talked enough?”

“I, uh, maybe. I mean, I don’t think so. I get you’re like, super annoyed because of the pills and being stuck inside all day for like, ever, but I think these rides to school are just an awesome way for us to hang out. It’s like, we’re gonna be stuck here all day, we may as well play 20 questions.”

Kurt frowns, “I don’t get why now of all times you want to bond.”

“We’re brothers now, man. I’ve just… never had a family before, well, ‘sides my mom of course. But you and Burt, you’re really awesome.”

Kurt softens at that, looking down at his shoes, after taking a sad glance at Finn. “That’s… nice of you, Finn.”

“Really? Can you tell Quinn that?” At Kurt’s confused glare, he replies with, “I’m trying to win her back, she might be, like, impressed or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“You’re going for another girl?” Kurt replies, aghast, “After both Quinn and Rachel cheated on you? The hell, Finn?”

“You sound like my mom now, Kurt.” Finn groans, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Kurt feels the comment like a punch to the gut, and just breathes out quietly, before slumping in his seat. “No, you’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Finn whines, “Kurt, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You definitely meant it some way, Finn.”

“I’m sorry.” Finn grumbles, “I shouldn’t have said it.”

Kurt stays silent and watches the trees pass. They both stay in an awkward, uncomfortable silence for a few moments, before he senses Finn turning to him sheepishly. “Hey, uh, remember the last time you said that?”

“Said what?” Kurt’s voice is muffled by his shoulder, drawn up against his face. 

“The whole… girls thing. That they were my problem.”

Kurt thinks this is finally the thing that will push him over into puking. Breathing in, he casts his best, most scathing glare at Finn. 

“No, actually, I decided to forget every single part of my _stupid_ crush on you, Finn. You know why? Because it was stupid!”

“Dude, I’m just trying to make conversation!” Finn shouts back, “Look, I get that it’s uncomfortable for you, it was uncomfortable for me too, but can’t we put it behind us and, like, just look back on it and laugh?”

“I know you want to turn the entire thing into this stupid _joke_ we can tell at parties or something, where you can point at me and say “That’s my gay brother! He had a massive crush on me, but now he’s my brother!” and I’ll do jazz hands and sing the latest Lady Gaga song, but that’s not going to happen. I’m sorry, Finn, but I don’t find getting slushied and called a fag by my ex-crush as amusing as you do.”

Finn stays silent for a moment, and another few, and Kurt finally thinks the conversation is over, but moments pass before he hears a quiet sniffle, and he looks over to see Finn _crying._ His heart breaks, even if three minutes ago he was on the cusp of jerking the car to the right _again_. 

He frowns, “Finn.”

“No, man, you’re right.” Finn sobs, “I jus’ want us to get along, but I can’t… Can’t just brush things under the rug.”

Kurt sighs, “Pull the car over, we can talk about it and… and I don’t trust you to not run us off the road when you’re crying.” 

They end up in a little clearing close to the main road, weedy grass and big pine trees surrounding them. Kurt stares at Finn with his hands wiping rhythmically over his cheeks, his hoodie coming away dark with tears. 

“I just want us to work, Kurt. You and me and my mom and Burt.” 

“We can work, Finn.” Kurt reminds him gently. It’s not even a lie, he has his movie nights with Finn, and he remembers how helpful and nice Finn was to him in the hospital, and how careful he is with him when he was stuck at home. He knows they’re good brothers. Kurt just doesn’t… Doesn’t want to be reminded of how stupid he was.

“N-no we can’t ‘cuz I always say and do the wrong thing and I lost Rachel and I can’t have Quinn and you hate me and Burt doesn’t even trust me to get you to school in one piece.” Finn mutters under his hands. 

“I don’t hate you, Finn. Sure, you infuriate me, but I mean, everyone does… Kind of.” Kurt snickers to himself, “Remember when I yelled at Mercedes because she spilt hot coffee on my faux fur coat? She’s my best friend and I still tore her a new one.”

“Yeah…” Finn mumbles. 

“And Burt doesn’t even trust me to get me to school. He probably wouldn’t even trust all the guys at the West Lima Fire Station taking me to school, covered head to toe in bubble wrap.” Kurt snorts to himself, “Don’t take it so personally, Finn.” 

Kurt sighs, “As for the girls, Finn… One day, you will find the perfect girl. And you’ll be able to fight for her and win and be happy with her.”

“I love them both.” Finn sniffles.

“And they’ll see that,” Kurt rubs his shoulder soothingly, “One day.”

Finn sobs into his sleeve again, “I’m so sorry for what happened in the past, Kurt. All the… dumpster tossing, and slushies and locker slams. I just… I just feel like shit all the time knowing I let that happen to you. And that I kept letting it happen and now I gotta drive you two hours to school every day where… where bullies won’t try to kill you.” 

Kurt looks at his Dalton uniform, the navy blazer and red piping, his shined shoes and his green, _green_ cast. There’s a part of him that resents every person at McKinley who didn’t stand up for him, for being complicit in the fact he’s uprooted his entire life because some Neanderthal can’t keep his pathetic hands to himself for a change. It makes him so mad and he can’t control it. There’s a strong part of him that resents Finn, as well, for not being there. But watching him break down, sob into his hands in the middle of driving _him_ to school for no reason other than wanting to be a good brother… He can’t hold it against him, at least, not for long. 

“You’re here for me now.” Kurt replies simply.

“We can make this family work, Kurt,” Finn’s eyes are red when he meets Kurt’s own, barely hidden surprise, “I’m gonna try really hard and be for you the way I should be.”

“Maybe we should start with getting me to school on time.” Kurt says mildly.

Finn looks at the time with widened eyes, and hastily wipes away tears, “Oh shit. We’re so gonna be late.”

“ _I’m_ so gonna be late, you mean.”

“Yeah, that.” The ignition starts again, and Finn turns the radio up. 

“ _-_ _nsultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through,_ ” The radio blares, and Finn looks excitedly. 

“Yes, I love this song!” Finn shouts, and joins in with the, “ _Turn and face the changes_!”

Kurt looks out the window silently with the beginnings of a smile upturning his lips, the scenery becoming blurred with the view as they begin to gain speed. He thinks that he’ll always have that darker part of himself, incapable of being able to understand Finn’s behaviour in the past, and how he can ever move forward knowing how much Finn hurt him, but ultimately, Kurt forgives him. He just hopes Finn learns to forgive himself. 

  
  
  


Dalton is as typically overdone as usual. For such a magnificent, overwhelming building, full of personality and decor, the school itself is pretty… Dull. As Kurt would put it, at least. The uniform is just the iceberg, he thinks. He wonders if there’s a yearly pact by the student body to act as samey as their uniforms are. _“If you wear the full uniform, you have to be more uptight and strict, but if you wear the sweater by itself, you can be the nice, welcoming guy,”_ is what Kurt imagines someone like Wes or David saying at every assembly. Kurt looks down at his full uniform and scowls. He is _not_ uptight… Well, okay. But, he is not _that_ strict, at least, not in comparison to Wes. 

A few people in the halls stop him to ask about the accident, which makes Kurt cringe unconsciously every time he mentions the deer. No one comments on it, unlike Blaine, which makes him feel a bit better. He goes to his morning lessons, pleasantly surprised at how nice the teachers are being, giving him coursework he’s missed that Blaine didn’t drop off, and doing the polite, “get well” routine he’s been subjected to by half of the people that know him. McKinley teachers wouldn’t do that, besides Mr. Shuester. Mr. Shue would’ve made an entire lesson on it, and he’d be serenaded for days on end. It makes him yearn for the New Directions even fiercer. When he has a free period, Kurt decides to use the time to catch up on what he’s missed, which is _a lot_ , before he starts to hear a very recognizable voice coming from down the hall. A mass of recognizable voices, actually. 

_“-things that come to you, and I wanna feel it too,_ ” Kurt presses his lips together thoughtfully. _How 2000s of them,_ he thinks, before quietly gathering his things and shuffling past the rest of the student body, muttering his apologies at jostling them, before coming to see most of the Warblers sway together like waves, Blaine dancing around them leisurely. 

It’s obvious Blaine doesn’t even know he’s there, and he’s thankful for that. They barely texted since that afternoon in his bedroom, and Blaine didn’t come up to speak to him in person when he dropped off work, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t know how to act around him, and he imagines Blaine feels the same way. It’s almost cathartic to watch Blaine, knowing he can’t watch him back, just to soak up the glory of... Him, without any filter, or awkward glances. There’s a smile unbidden at his lip

“ _And it makes me feel so fine_ ,” Blaine sings, “ _I can’t control my brain._ ”

“ _We’ll run away together_ ,” On the last word, Blaine eyes meet his, and he freezes within the moment, and Kurt almost wants to push his way out of the crowd, go back to his quiet table and continue studying, but then Blaine’s smile turns into a grin, “ _We'll spend some time forever, we'll never feel bad anymore.”_

As the song moves into the instrumental, Blaine walks up to Kurt and gestures to his hand, which Kurt responds with hesitantly giving him his free wrist, before Kurt can recognize the resignation in the other boy’s eyes, he pulls him into the fray of Warblers with a grin, and the fact that most of the Warblers smile at his return amicably makes his chest ache with joy. He sways with them good-naturedly, as Blaine finishes up the song with a flourish and a bow. Both Kurt and the rest of the watchers give a steady applause, as Blaine soaks up the attention like a sponge. Once they all leave, Blaine sidles up to Kurt with an almost drunken smile.

“Hey stranger,” Blaine greets, “You didn’t tell me you were coming back today.”

“It was a surprise.” Kurt replies breathily, which is a complete lie. It’s a lot easier to potentially hide from someone who doesn’t know you’re there. 

“Well, colour me surprised.” 

Jeff comes to Kurt’s other side and puts his hand out for a high five, “Hey, Kurt’s back!”

“You should’ve told us, man,” Nick starts, “We had a whole song ready for you.”

“We can still do it.” Blaine comments.

“Alright, boys, in your places!” David shouts, before Kurt shakes his head almost violently.

“No. No songs.” Kurt stresses.

“What’s wrong with a song?” Wes mutters.

“Nothing wrong with a song,” Kurt smiles sheepishly, “Can I take a rain check though? I just… just wanna be back in a team for a while. These last weeks have been very… Uh, lonely.”

“When I broke my leg falling off my bike last year, I was bedridden for weeks.” Nick comments, “I totally get it.” 

“David broke his pinky break-dancing in freshman year,” Thad drawls, “so the Warblers are no stranger to injury.”

“Well, Kurt kinda did more than break his pinky.” Jeff replies. 

“It was a car accident, wasn’t it?” Wes asks.

“Yup.” Kurt laughs sheepishly, “Big ol’ deer.”

He ignores Blaine’s sad look to watch the rest of the Warblers. 

“We’re glad you’re alright, man,” Trent gives him a thumbs up, which Kurt gives back.

“I’m glad I’m alright too.” Kurt smiles gently. 

  
  
  


Kurt spends the rest of the day walking aimlessly around the school and thinking distantly, _Oh, Blaine called me a good friend there…_ or _Blaine held my hand there once… granted it was because he used me to haul himself after tying his shoes, but I’m being selective for a reason_ . Kurt turns into the Junior commons, the fireplace crackling and warming his fall-chilled bones, to which Kurt thinks, _We sang Baby, It’s Cold Outside right there._

“Whatcha thinking about?” 

“Ah!” Kurt squeals and turns abruptly, seeing Blaine’s big old grinning face and his outspread hands. “You scared me…”

“Sorry, Kurt,” Blaine brushes by him and sits down on one of the sofas, catches Kurt’s hesitant gazes, and pats the sofa cushion beside him invitingly. _Oh. So this is what we’re doing now._

“I think I know where this conversation is going, so, uh, I’m gonna go now,” Kurt points behind him, before being pulled back gently by Blaine, his eyes open and wet.

“Kurt, please.”

Kurt grumbles, and comes to sit next to him, hands wrapping around his stomach timidly. Blaine sits at a respectable distance beside him, hands tucked into his pockets. He feels a bit sick, so he says so.

“I feel sick now.” Kurt mumbles, “I should get Finn to pick me up early… or my Dad… or something…” 

Blaine sighs, “I don’t want to make this seem like a kidnapping situation. I’m not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

“You won’t?”

“Do I look like the person to do that?” Blaine frowns at him.

“Yes, actually.” Kurt replies honestly. 

“Oh.” Blaine looks a little put-off by that answer and stares at his slacks, “Well… I just want to help, you know.”

Kurt’s gaze softens, “I know you do.”

“I get why you won’t… but I thought we were like… confidants, you know?” Blaine bunches his slacks at the knees with his fists, “You can talk to me about _anything_.”

“I know I can, Blaine,” Kurt starts hesitantly, “I just don’t think you can help. That’s all.”

Blaine makes an affronted noise, “Why not?”

“Blaine, I’ve told you about a lot of things… my dad, Finn, the bullying… Karofsky… but that’s because I knew you’d _get_ it. You’re the first guy to really… get me, and not immediately, like, try and push me into a locker or throw a slur at me. It’s easy to talk to you about things that… I know you’ll understand.”

“Because I’m gay?” Blaine says hesitantly.

“Because you’re gay.”

Blaine is quiet for a moment, then in a quiet voice replies, “Why can’t you talk to me about the car crash? What wouldn’t I get?”

“I don’t want to get into the details, Blaine.”

“I know that I’m not very good with words sometimes… and that the last time I gave you advice, it, kinda, forced you to move schools, but I really care about you, Kurt. You’re my best friend and the first guy outside of Dalton, and even, like, _in_ Dalton, that really _knows_ me.” Blaine faces him, hands politely steepled in his lap, and posture open, “To know that something… caused that car accident… and I can’t help… lessen the load or something… It makes me feel like _shit_.”

Kurt’s eyes prick, “You don’t need to be my saviour, Blaine. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to tell you. I don’t really wanna tell anyone, but Carole’s going to make me go to a therapist no matter what, so I’ll have to tell someone anyway. There, load lessened.” 

Blaine looks down at his hands, before timidly looking back at Kurt, eyes wet, “You’ll be okay?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to get rid of me.” Kurt jokes, gesturing with his broken arm.

Blaine pouts, “Don’t make jokes like that.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

Blaine is silent before he nods resolutely, facing Kurt with a determined glint in his eye “But you have to tell me things. Well, the things you want to tell me. I want to be there for you.”

Kurt gives a hesitant smile, nodding his head. A part of him wonders that Blaine must treat him like his pet project, trying to meld him into the person he wanted his freshman self to be, the before-Dalton version of Blaine, vicariously living through him to face the parts of himself he’s ashamed of. As far as he knows, Blaine has never rammed his car into a tree in an attempt to take his own life, so what wisdom would Blaine have to give? Stand up to the tree that busted up his face? With his luck, the tree would drop a branch and crush Kurt before he even has the time to scream. 

He looks off to the side innocently, “So, when exactly did Mrs. Davidson get her hair cut?”

Blaine looks shocked, before a grin erupts on his face, “Oh, it’s dreadful. I know. Okay, it would’ve been like, a day or two after your accident, and David and I walk into AP Geography…”

  
  
  


The drive home with Finn is uneventful. He talks about Sam and his Bieber experience, and how “all the dudes are super into it”, which makes Kurt hum with barely concealed doubt. Finn doesn’t catch on, so nothing comes out of it. He enters his home with a greeting to his dad, smile big and hug reassuring, but the hug he shares with Carole is uncomfortable. He feels ashamed of how he treats her, but he needs his secret to remain that - a secret.

Before the accident, Kurt always thought about telling his dad the truth about Karofsky, they’d sit together on the couch, watching Top Gear or a musical, and in the more quiet parts of the film, he always thought how easy it’d be just to tell him about the kiss, and put it out there. But, he could never gather the courage. He just sat there staring at his dad till he was asked about it, which he always just brushed off as him staring off into space. After the accident, the thought of telling his dad the truth burns on his tongue. Sometimes it’s all he can think about. It would be so _simple_. Just one sentence, and everything would be different. The blood rushes in his ears and his hands are clammy and he feels like he’s vibrating, and when his mouth opens, he just says he’s going to the bathroom, where he sits, nursing his head and splashing his face with water. 

The time for his first therapy session comes around, and his Dad follows him into the waiting room - small, and full of potted plants - for moral support. The hand on his shoulder squeezes tight, keeping him steady. His dad says, with pride in his voice, “I’m glad you’re doing this, kid.”

Kurt nods shakily, and meets his eyes hard, “I am too.” 

His dad sits next to him, jiggling his leg, while the TV blares with some gameshow. Kurt’s phone buzzes with a text, and it takes his breath away. 

_Courage. - Blaine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs i stole  
> "changes" - david bowie  
> "island in the sun" - weezer
> 
> thank you for reading<3


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